Words – un spoken have a life of their own
They sing and dance constantly on
the skeleton and the rattling
makes the bones porous
Unspoken words suddenly
shoot up one day and come out
as flustered tears for unexpected
reasons – looking at a TV soap
They sometimes sit heavily
on the chest and
make the heart pump faster
to shake them off
Some day, they sit in the stomach
blocking hunger,
they circle the eyes and they
paralyse the laughter muscles
Unspoken yet ringing as loud as
bells they make the hearing obscure
Unspoken words have a life of
their own!
They sing and dance constantly on
the skeleton and the rattling
makes the bones porous
Unspoken words suddenly
shoot up one day and come out
as flustered tears for unexpected
reasons – looking at a TV soap
They sometimes sit heavily
on the chest and
make the heart pump faster
to shake them off
Some day, they sit in the stomach
blocking hunger,
they circle the eyes and they
paralyse the laughter muscles
Unspoken yet ringing as loud as
bells they make the hearing obscure
Unspoken words have a life of
their own!
4 comments:
Oh wow!!! Very powerful kane ma... Should have a hill next door to go shout on top off. Or a tree to whisper into no? At least some unspoken words get shaken off that way... Nice post.
Thanks kane, when we go for the outing lets find trees and whisper or scream away :-)
In a Chinmayi's poem, spoken word also does similar thing!
A 2005 poem of Billy Collins (dubbed the most famous living American poet) does the same with 'Silence'...
"There is the sudden silence of the crowd
above a player not moving on the field,
and the silence of the orchid.
The silence of the falling vase
before it strikes the floor,
the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.
The stillness of the cup and the water in it,
the silence of the moon
and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.
The silence when I hold you to my chest,
the silence of the window above us,
and the silence when you rise and turn away.
And there is the silence of this morning
which I have broken with my pen,
a silence that had piled up all night
like snow falling in the darkness of the house—
the silence before I wrote a word
and the poorer silence now".
Poets should not be silent!
Wow! beautiful! so many types of silences and the horror and beauty of it ... thanks for this bro
Post a Comment